


English Breakfast

by bogged



Series: Nubile Young Celebrities [2]
Category: Actor RPF, American Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Disney RPF, Harry Potter RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-11
Updated: 2009-10-11
Packaged: 2017-10-04 12:46:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bogged/pseuds/bogged
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>98% blowjobs, 2% drinking tea. A part of the Nubile Young Celeb 'verse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	English Breakfast

_  
And it is not as though I do not know it hurts me, it's just I drink only that which makes me thirsty.  
—"Big Kid Table" ; Thao with the Get Down Stay Down_

It is Sunday morning when they try this for the first time. Dan sits in the big leather chair and Zac kneels deep in front of him.

Light shines on the back of Dan's neck and his freckles sunbathe. He smiles, thin lips pulling taut and dry over spitslick teeth as the butter light from the window he sits in front of dribbles over his shoulders and down his arms. The sun sticks to him; he cannot shake it.

First, there are kisses. Body kisses that Zac gives to Dan up and down and anywhere, one way kisses that Dan returns best he can with soft exhalations and throaty sex noises.

Zac has the fingers of one hand pulsing and kneading Dan's cockandballs beneath the soft cotton of his navy blue pajama pants while his remaining five are fixing themselves on his own dick, really starting to get hard now. The strain of it against his clothing is an unusual pleasure. Dan fingers the top of Zac's head, pale skin through light hair and such tall fingers for so short a man.

"Soon, please?" Dan asks and it is so quiet Zac thinks he may have imagined the words. Zac, who has worked himself down to the slink in Dan's hipbone, looks up. He rests his chin on the lean meat there and feels the result of those yoga classes Dan has been taking. The skin smells sweet but the muscle is tender. He looks up and Dan is looking back at him all moon-eyed and flush and Zac can't tell whether he is antsy or nervous or both or something else entirely. Zac, for one, has been waiting for this for a long time. Zac, for example, is the picture of contentment.

"Oh, were you ready to start?" Zac asks with a smile. Without breaking his gaze, he pushes his tongue out as far as it will go and licks Dan right on the hipskin. Dan's foot stumbles around Zac's legs until it finds his cock. He runs it up the length of the erection, still in Zac's trousers and sticking out at a funny angle that makes it hard for Dan's ankle to bend to accommodate.

"Fuck," is all Dan can say, but he says it so well. It works like a passkey and Zac begins again.

Zac pulls off what remains of Dan's clothes and then they are at an imbalance, Dan in his full monty and Zac wearing enough to be able to respectably answer the door, should a neighbor need to pop by for a cup of sugar. Dan doesn't object, doesn't really feel exposed. He's been the subject of much higher odds.

Where to start, then, Zac wonders. For all the times he has imagined this, he cannot at the moment remember a single very beginning, not one starting point for him to work off of. Should he lick first, suck later? Or suck first, lick later? Any of the other times he has done this with boyfriends past and present (and the present one is not someone Zac is thinking about right now; he is decidedly ignoring the fact that his boyfriend prefers Zac start with the balls and work his way up and you might be surprised how easy it is to pretend someone does not exist when the cock you normally think of with eyes closed is actually there, right there, hard and fleshy and as tangible as they come), any of those times Zac has just thrown himself into the act. But this is sort of a one-shot deal and Zac has to prove to Dan that this is a good thing, that sometimes being a homewrecker is worth it if it means amazing oral sex on Sunday mornings.

Zac decides on a careful mixture of kindness and haphazard enjoyment. He does this by closing his eyes and just licking whatever he happens to hit first. If the sound Dan makes upon initial contact—a sharp _phwoar_ like he was punched in the back by quite a large fist—is any type of litmus test for enjoyment, Zac thinks he has started off well and prides himself on his ability to solve a problem while thinking creatively.

His mouth is beneath the head of Dan's cock and Zac tongues the prominent veins there. Dan, way up in the chair by the window with the sunlight on his neck, he closes his eyes. He has to close them so he doesn't come and ruin everything. Dan's eyes close and he feels Zac's tongue and it is right on his hot spot and he can practically feel the little blood cells screaming to his dick, each one fighting the others to get directly underneath the heat lamp that is the warmth of Zac's breath and the slick thickness of tongue. Dan tries to clear his mind and think of nothing but the sensation of rough fingertips digging into his flesh, hot from the sun and the press of Zac's tongue, but because there is something malfunctioning in his brain all Dan can think is that Zac's tongue is like God and his bloodstream is like rush hour traffic on the 101 and then there's the God Dan doesn't believe exists, licking Earth on Los Angeles of all the disgusting places and do you know where that's been, God? That's the trouble with Being, you never have a mum to tell you that you shouldn't put your mouth on things you've picked up off the ground.

Dan feels like he is picking himself up off the ground, fuck. Fuck and shit and bollocks, Zac has his mouth on Dan's bollocks and one of his hands on Dan's cock, all slick and a little sticky and feeling like how it feels when Dan does this to himself but oh, only one thousand times better.

"I don't—" Dan begins. Zac's breath hitches, but he keeps going because Dan could be about to say anything at all, it doesn't necessarily have to be the protest Zac's mind jumps to. From the way Dan's toes are curling beneath the hem of the white undershirt Zac is wearing, chances are good Dan doesn't even know he is forming words. But Zac decides better safe than sorry, because if Dan cannot speak at all then he cannot say anything Zac does not want to hear.

Zac shoots himself up and grabs Dan's face and kisses him like they're dying. He is sitting in Dan's lap, his legs on either side of Dan's waist and all of the sudden clothes feel worse than terrorism. Before he can even parse the taste of his own dick in his mouth, Dan watches Zac stand up and strip himself down until he is wearing only his own erection and this desperate hungry look that is just plain gorgeous on that tanned face, behind those bright eyes.

Zac is forgetting that he is supposed to be gentle with Dan, that this is their effectual first time. He can feel Dan's erection in the curve of his ass and isn't it clever, how that fits?

"I want to fuck you," Zac says all over Dan's lips, bloodswollen and parted and just begging for a cock, really.

Dan doesn't know what to say in response so he just kisses Zac, thinking if their lips are preoccupied then he won't have to tell him something he doesn't want to hear. Zac's mouth tastes like flesh, specifically Dan's own, so that is a little weird, but in the right way. Dan is pretty sure his mouth tastes like the shadow of mint toothpaste, boring and expected at this time of morning. He has an idea. It comes to him like a spanking.

"Can I do you?" Dan asks, turning his head to pull away from the kiss. "Blow you, I mean?"

"Uhhh," is Zac's well thought out response. He has not considered this. Why has he never considered this, never imagined any form of reciprocation in his fantasies?

"I mean, yeah," Zac says after a moment. "Go for it." And then, whispered low in the throat with his hand over Dan's hand, guiding that foreign palm up and down his own cock, "But you're still coming first."

And you'd think Zac had slapped him from the way Dan's mouth and eyes and nostrils even open into perfect little "o"s, swimming on his face like Fruit Loops. Or from the way all his breath gets caught somewhere inside and he just sort of lies there very still, not moving and acting almost dead.

"It's going to happen soon, if you keep on like that," Dan says, sounding slightly pained.

So Zac gives Dan another kiss and returns to his knees. He feels the fibers in their carpet dig into the cracks in the rough, dry patches of skin on his kneecaps. Zac full on takes Dan into his mouth and does that swirl thing with his tongue that even he can't really explain how to do, it just sort of came to him one night. And then Dan has both palms flat against the back of Zac's head, holding him in place as he gives the customary warning guys learn to do when they spend a lot of time getting blowjobs from girls.

Dan comes and Zac swallows and for a smoker who eats a lot of meat, Dan doesn't taste bad at all. The truth is Dan doesn't taste like much of anything, but then Zac sees the forest for the trees and he can see himself as he is in this moment, naked and a little sweaty, moans drowning in a throat slicked with the semen he has wanted for a very long time. He clenches to try and stop the bullets clawing at him from inside of his cock, but it doesn't take long before he fails. He lets himself fall back onto his haunches as his hand rushes to himself out of instinct, not necessity. The orgasm is intense but cheap and when he is finished he looks around for something to wipe up the carpet. A hand reaches down into his line of sight, holding a white cotton shirt Zac recognizes as his own.

"Sorry, I used it," Dan states with a shrug. He looks naked and happy and warm up on that chair and Zac would very much like to be closer.

"Sorry I came," Zac says from the floor. "Maybe you can owe me one?"

Dan considers this as he grabs his pajamas off the floor, lifts his hips to slide them up his body, his hand absentmindedly dusting over his crotch in the same way people rub their stomachs as they try and decide what to eat. He agrees to a maybe.

Zac puts his clothes back on and tries not think about how Dan is not wearing underwear beneath those pajama pants, because that will lead to thoughts of Dan sleeping naked, only putting on clothes for Zac's so-called benefit, for the benefit of anyone Zac may have over.

And now that his mind is clearing, Zac is not sure what to think about Dan, who has stood up and walked into the kitchen and is resetting the electric kettle. The water inside—boiling when Zac came up behind Dan however long ago, pressing his lips against the back of Dan's shoulder and meaning it so much that Dan's hand, reaching for the kettle, froze mid-trajectory—that water has long since gone lukewarm, so Dan must restart it and re-wait for the cup of tea he has been craving all this time.

Dan is himself an island, a single person once more. The Dan in the kitchen is Zac's roommate and even though he has soft red indentations all up and down his back from being thrust into the folds of a leather chair by the very force of an unsolicited but, and this is important, accepted blowjob, he is a man of some scruples and Zac has a boyfriend and so that "maybe" probably means "no."

Dan turns around and holds his mug of tea up near his face. Softly, he blows ripples. He looks at Zac through the steam and wonders what he is thinking. Maybe it is just his sex brain, or the steam or the morning in his eyes, but Zac has a look on his face that Dan can't quite figure out. He takes a sip of his tea, even though he knows it will burn him. His eyes water and he smacks his scalded tongue against the roof of his mouth, pleased with the pain he has inflicted upon himself. That should suffice.

Dan takes another sip and it hurts less this time because he is burning off his tastebuds. He shudders to think how he will have to atone for the blowjob in his debt. You can't just blow your roommate in your bedroom while his boyfriend is sitting in the living room completely unawares, thinking he is in the toilet or something, and then not expect a whole messload of pain in your immediate future. He takes a third sip that is sized like a gulp and it scalds his throat. Dan winces and wonders if semen calms throat burns. Likely not, he thinks, and the punishments he is going to have to inflict upon himself, they are piling so high in his mind that the top is getting hazy and his neck is beginning to hurt from the strain of looking up. One man can only stand so tall.


End file.
